In the Silence
by weddersins
Summary: ABANDONED :/ After Christine's untimely death, her youngest daughter becomes a dancer in the restored Paris Opera house. Will she follow in her mothers footsteps in more ways than one? altered timelines, based on 2004 movie. T just to be safe. R&R?
1. Chapter One: Grief

_**Author's note:** hey guyssss ;p this is my first phanfic, and actually my first fanfic ever. What you think is incredibly important to me, I would love suggestions and criticism. Trust me, I need all the help I can get! This is based off of the movie, with a few timeline and other liberties taken by yours truly. As you probably knew, I dont own POTO, Erik, Raoul, or any of the other 'cannon' charecters in this phic. Hope you guys enjoy this story, remember to let me know what you think!_

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Danielle de Chagny sniffed back her tears as she stood at the ornate grey headstone. A strong-willed child of 12, she was not accustomed to crying, even with ample reason. And this was ample reason. As she watched the wind blow the leaves over the base of the granite stone, the finality of her mother's death sunk in. Her loving mother would no longer be there to wipe her tears, bandage her skinned knees, or cook her suppers. The simple finality of the carved numbers one, eight, nine, and zero told her that all too well. The tasks that her mother had so lovingly attended to would now fall to her older sister, who at the moment was standing beside her father. The two spoke in hushed tones, with occasional glances at both Danielle and her older bother, Reynard. They muttered darkly in low voices, and Danielle wasn't sure she could trust the words exchanged between them were of a happy nature. Her brother stood as far away from his father and sisters as he possibly could, a dark cloud covering his handsome features. Of the three, he was possibly the most hurt by his mother's untimely demise. He and his father were often locking horns over even the smallest matters, and his relationships with his sisters were practically nonexistent. His mother was the only one he had even felt some connection to, and tears unsightly for a 15 year old boy threatened to make their presence known. In uncharacteristic pity for her brother, Danielle turned her attention back to the headstone. She traced the cold curve of a stone ribbon with one finger.

"I love you, mama. I miss you. Please come back…"

Danielle knew her words were unheard. Her mother was dead, and stones had no ears. Taking one last look at her mother's final resting place, she turned and walked back to where her sister and her father stood. Her sister Elinor straightened up, an attempt to make herself look more like an in-control adult, instead of a grieving child. Golden curls fell into her eyes, which she brushed away with one well-manicured finger.

"Dany.. your father… I mean… we… we thought…" Tears choked Elinor's words. "Oh, nevermind, my pet." She forced a smile onto her swollen, tear-strained features.

Danielle looked at her sister quizzically, then tuned her inquiring eyes to her papa. Something was not right. He smiled a sympathetic smile at his youngest daughter, and patted her hand as if to calm her. Traces of sadness left her papa's eyes moist and clear-blue.

"We'll talk later, my sweet. Why don't you go… collect… your brother?"

Confused, Danielle backed away and turned to her older brother, who was now sitting irreverently on someone else's gravestone.

"Reynard!" Danielle hissed, mortified. "Get off there! How would you like it if someone did that to mama's headstone? For shame, Reynard, _you're_ supposed to be the mature one!" Her hazel eyes darted around the kirkyard, looking to see if another had chanced upon her brother's irreverence. Not another soul met her gaze.

Reynard's dark brown eyes snapped with a sudden hardness. Swinging his long legs, he kicked himself off the cold granite and landed with a thump in the newly fallen snow. He turned to face his little sister, eyes glimmering with nothing but hatred and hurt. He stood a good head and shoulders above her diminutive form, and for a moment looked as if he was going to use that to his advantage. Instead, he shrunk away from her slightly, the quick ire leaving his eyes. Offering his sister a quiet smile, Reynard turned to join his father and older sibling.

Danielle, now completely confused, followed after her stoic brother. Her feet made crunching noises in the white snow, and little white flakes landed like teardrops on her cranberry hood. She wondered to herself if the snow had been her mother's doing.

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The carriage ride back to the de Chagny manor was an uncomfortably quiet one. Her papa said next to nothing, her sister and brother even less. Danielle had at first tried to get the three of them engaged of conversation of some sort, but to no avail. A dark cloud had fallen over the de Chagny family with the death of its matron, the one-time great opera singer Christine.

As she watched the lines of trees pass by outside the carriage, Danielle thought back three days ago, when she had heard of the horrible accident that claimed her mother's life and left her papa a wheelchair-bound cripple. The news had come when she and Elinor were baking pastries in the kitchen, under the careful supervision of their cook, Elsie. Elinor had dropped the platter carrying the cooling sweets, scattering them across the hard kitchen floor and shattering the dish. Danielle hadn't reacted at all, save for to pick up the shards of pottery. Her mind at first decided to block it out as an unreality, but that illusion was shattered just as easily as the dish had been.

Her papa had come home in a wheeled chair a day later, and her mother never returned.

Danielle was snapped out of her miserable reverie by the jerking stoppage of the carriage. She had been so lost in though she hadn't even noticed their approach to the manorhouse. Danielle hopped out of the carriage, ignoring the proffered helping hand of the coachman. Without so much as a backwards glace to the remainder of her family, she ran up the oak stairs to her bedroom in a whirl of child's skirts.

After shutting the heavy door behind her, Danielle sank to the floor and allowed the sobs she had held inside her to break free. She was a brokenhearted child, and she cried as such. Turning her tear-streaked face heavenwards, Danielle cried for her mother.

"Mama, mama, don't you love me anymore?"

"Why did you leave us here, what did we do to make you leave?"

"Mama, mama, I don't understand!"

"I don't _understand_ mama!"

"Where are you, Mama?"

"Mama _please_…"

Her petulant voice met with nothing but rafters. Her mother couldn't hear her, her mother wouldn't hear _anyone_ anymore. Accepting the finality of her mother's death had taken its harsh toll on the young girl. Danielle's sobs slowly reduced themselves to sniffles. Exhausted, she curled up on the floor, the small of her back braced against the heavy door. She had never felt so utterly alone in all her life. She sobbed once again, this time more of a hiccup then a cry. Closing her eyes, she allowed her fatigue to take over her small body.

On the other side of the door, Raoul de Chagny closed his eyes, face ashen with remorse.

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_Im gonna try to keep a chapter-a-week posting schedule... I have several chapters prewritten, Ill prolly put at least three of those up initially. Hope yall are enjoying "In the Silence__" so far, please drop me a review if you get the chance:)_


	2. Chapter Two: Reckoning

_**Author's Note:** hey again ;P this is chapter two of "In the Silence". Things are starting to heat up for little Danielle... once again, I dont own POTO or any of the cannon charecters. Please let me know what you think:)_

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Hours later, Danielle snuck down the staircase. Her stomach was angry with her for skipping dinner, and she fully intended to make amends with it. She was slightly miffed that no one had bothered to wake her for dinner, but her common sense told her she had needed the time by herself. Wiping her hands across her still-swollen eyes, she rummaged in the lower cabinets of the kitchen for something edible. Danielle gave a small squeak of triumphant joy as she found what she was looking for – bread from this morning, and a dish of cheese. Cradling the foodstuffs to her chest, Danielle turned to return to her room. It was approaching her normal bedtime, and the house had begun to quiet down for the night. Papa was in his study, Reynard was in his room, the household staff was in their quarters, and Elinor was probably working on a needlepoint somewhere. Still, she tiptoed up the stairs cautiously, not wanting anyone to notice her presence and chide her for eating in her room. Her small feet made almost no noise as she padded past the open door to her father's study, where a lamp still smoldered in the corner. She was three steps from her room when her father's voice startled her into dropping her armload of snacks.

"Danielle?"

Self-consciously picking up the food off the floor and setting it on a hall table, Danielle peered in the door to her father's study. "Yes, papa?"

"Come here, my child." Raoul faced the opposite direction from his youngest daughter, staring into the flickering candle flame as it cast dancing shadows over his books and ledgers.

Danielle moved to stand by her father, her small hand resting on one of his chair's large wheels. She watched the candle also, eyeing a small glob of wax that dripped down its side and eventually pooled in the candlestick. She watched the reflection of the flame worry over her father's features, enhancing his wrinkles and giving him the appearance of and old and haunted man. Danielle shuddered in spite of herself.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?" her father turned his face towards her, a face that had seemed to age decades in mere days. He drew his arm around her petite shoulders, bringing her closer to him and pressing her side into the spokes of his wheelchair. The familiar smell of her father's fine tobacco clung to his clothes, and Danielle drew some small comfort in the fact that not all had changed.

"What was it you wanted, Papa?" Danielle queried, meeting his blue eyes with her hazel ones.

Her papa sighed deeply, and smoothed a hand over her dark brown braid. "Oh Dany, you have no idea how hard this is for me."

Danielle stood beside him in obedient silence, her eyes pleading him to continue his train of though. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. She wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but it didn't seem good.

"After… after much… after much discussion and thought, I have decided that it may be better for our family to part ways for a while."

Danielle's hazel eyes grew wide, and she grabbed her papa's arm tightly. "No, papa, no! I swear Ill be good, I swear I will, please don't make me leave!" Tears which she had so recently subdued rebelled against her wishes in the corners of her eyes.

Raoul patted his daughter's hand sadly, if a bit idly. "My dear child, it is _not_ your fault. Don't think for an instant that any of this is because of some action you have committed. I am not a well man anymore, Dany. I will not be able to do my job for quite a while, possibly not ever. I do not have the funds to keep this household together at present, and with your mother gone…" the victome paused here, and cleared his throat. "And with you're mother gone, and myself in the state I am in, I know I cannot care for you three in the way you deserve. This is only a temporary separation, my dear Dany, I promise we _will_ be together again."

Tears blurred Danielle's vision, and she squeezed her fingers into the cloth of her father's robe. "But papa, where am I to go?"

"To the place where your mother grew up, my sweet. You will become a dancer in the Paris opera house."

Danielle was quite taken aback. "But papa, I cannot dance, and I have no natural grace. I sincerely doubt my singing ability, also. And I am young, wouldn't Elinor be better suited for a career at the opera house? What am I to do there? Papa, I _cannot dance_!" tears of fear and frustration welled in the corners of her eyes.

"Sweetheart, Elinor is far too old to learn to dance. You cannot dance because you have not been taught, dear Dany. The mistress of ballet is a dear friend of your mothers. She has agreed to take care of you, and that includes teaching you to dance. You will be just like your dear mother, my sweet child… you resemble her so much already…" Raoul looked into his daughter's upturned face and saw his wife reflected back at him, as she was when they had been children. Fate had gifted Danielle none of his own physical features, even her nose was Christine's through and through. One of the very few noticeable differences between mother and daughter was Danielle's eyes. Where her mothers had been deep chocolate brown, Danielle's were a snapping hazel, bright with new ideas and exciting stories. Those eyes were dulled slightly in the candlelight, and misty with tears.

"Oh Papa…" Danielle cried, her tears breaking their dams. She threw her arms around her father's neck, sobbing her little heart out in earnest. "Papa, papa, papa, _I don't want to leave_!" She wailed.

Raoul patted his daughter's straight brown hair, another very slight alteration from the feature she shared with her dear mother. "My child, my child… it is what is best." He stared into the candle's flame once more as his daughter cried into his robe. He was no longer sure that this was truly the right choice.

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Three short weeks later, Danielle bid her bedroom farewell. It didn't seem like much of a bedroom anymore, at least to her. All the things that had made it warm and inviting and _hers_ were placed in trunks – some to take with her to the opera house, others to sit in storage till she could rejoin her family. Danielle collected her coat from the rung on the door, and walked out of her room for the last time. The cook, Elsie, met her at the landing. She pressed a cloth wrapped package into her hand, which Danielle guessed contained food of some kind. Tears in her eyes, the old cook squeezed Danielle in a tight embrace. She returned the hug gratefully; the cook had always been kind to her, and Danielle truly would miss her. Her sister stood at the bottom of the stairs, with Reynard's and her things scattered around the foyer. Her papa was sending Reynard away, also, to be apprenticed to a smithy in Paris. He was actually grateful for the opportunity to leave the house, and Danielle thought her papa might be grateful to have him gone, also. Elinor held her arms out to her younger sister, smiling a sad smile. She would not be leaving their father, but staying behind with him to help him become accustomed to his disability. Her beau was eagerly awaiting their wedding date, which Danielle was sure would come in the next few months.

"Oh Dany, I will miss you so much. Robert promised me once we're settled in together you may come and stay with us if you find the opera not to your liking." Elinor smiled kindly down at her, leaving out the unspoken phrase that hung like an electric vibration in the room – _or if we never come together as a family again. _"You will always be my dear little sister, and I will always love you."

Danielle lingered for a moment in her sister's embrace, and then continued towards the door. Reynard helping the coachman load their luggage into the carriage for the trip to the train station. They would travel together for a short while yet, so there was no need for goodbyes between them. Her eyes wandered around the courtyard for her father, but she saw no trace of him. Worried, she ran over to Reynard and tugged on his sleeve.

"Where is papa? Surely he will come to tell us goodbye!"

Reynard flashed her look, anger igniting a feral flame in his eyes. "Do you truly believe I care where he is, Danielle?"

Like a struck dog, Danielle shrunk away from her irate brother. Perhaps her father sending him away had affected him more than she had thought. Turning, Danielle ran around to the coach house, wondering if he could possibly be in there. Her father was not there either. Frantic, Danielle ran back inside in manor house.

"Papa? Papa? Where are you?!" she tore past crates of her things, darting around corners and peering into darkened rooms. She continued this for several minutes, but to no avail. Her father was simply nowhere to be found. Danielle darted outside again, and was quickly caught by the coachman.

"Mademoiselle? We must depart now if we are to be timely. You wouldn't want to miss your train."

Danielle struggled against his grip for a moment, crying out that she must say goodbye to her father. The coachman, however, refused to release her arm.

"M'selle, we must be getting underway."

Danielle realized that struggling against the much stronger coachman would get her nowhere. She nodded mutely, and allowed herself to be helped into the carriage. Suddenly, she understood that her father did not want to say goodbye to her. It hit her like a rock to the stomach. Swallowing back tears for what seemed the hundredth time this month, Danielle set her face into a mask. She would not cry over this. She had cried enough tears to last her a lifetime, if not longer. She settled in beside her brother, whose eyes were already glued to the window of the carriage, distantly focused on the future that awaited them both. So much the better, it saved her from trying to have to make small talk with the beast that inhabited the form of her brother. Danielle gave a shuddering sigh, and closed her eyes. She bit her lip to control her tears once more when the realization she was completely abandoned struck her.


	3. Chapter Three: A New Home

The train to Paris had been exactly what Danielle had expected – boring, long, and quiet. Reynard hadn't said a single word to her since they had left the house. Danielle was left to her own dark thoughts and quiet misgivings, every once in a while stealing glances at her brooding brother. Reynard hadn't seemed to lose any of his ire, but at least it hadn't grown. His shaggy blackbrown hair fell into his eyes, forever wanting a trimming, or at least a hairtie. He wasn't slight of frame by any means, but if anyone had called him stocky they would have regretted it. Danielle knew that her father's decision to make him a smithy's apprentice was based mostly on his physical form. His arms were strong, and corded muscle moved under his tanned skin. Sadly, Danielle recalled the last time they had played together. They had been friends, once. But those days were long gone.

Danielle was jerked from her reverie by the slow stopping of the train. Steam curled around the windows, and through its grey haze she saw her future – Paris, the city of lights. The city was not unfamiliar to her; she had been there a few times in the company of her mama and papa. But today, she would be setting foot in it alone. Swallowing the cold lump of fear that threatened to choke her, she grabbed for the handle of one of her two suitcases. Before she could grasp the other one, however, Reynard's hand closed around the handle.

"Ill accompany you to the opera house, Danielle." Sadness, not anger, tinged his chocolate eyes now. He smiled an uncharacteristic smile at his younger sister, as if trying to bolster her courage. "I've been there before, well, passed by it on the outside at least. It's very beautiful… I think you'll like it."

Danielle was momentarily taken aback by her brother's sudden mood swing. Reynard hadn't spoken this kindly to her in years, why start now? It delighted her irrationally. She grinned up at her older brother, releasing what little hold she had on the other handle. He shouldered it easily, and took his own pack in his other hand, made his way out of the train. Danielle followed him, carrying her valise as best as she was able to.

Looking back on her first moments in Paris, she would say it was the sunlight that got her first. The hustle and bustle of the city was bathed in a sort of hypnotizing, golden glow that seemed to take even the imperfections around her and make them beautiful. Even during the day, Paris truly was the "city of light". An enchanted grin spilt her face, and she trotted obediently after her brother, drinking in all the sights and smells of the grand city. Passing vendors offered her apples and trinkets and other goods. Street performers danced on corners, horses neighed in the streets as they pulled hansom cabs filled with well-dressed socialites. Danielle was so absorbed in the sights of the city; she forgot to look ahead of her and plowed straight into Reynard. Startled, her brother turned around, and Danielle was dismayed to see the quick anger snap in his eyes again. But almost as soon as it had appeared, Reynard forced it out. "Mesmerizing, isn't it Danielle? Be careful though, keep close to me. I don't want to lose you somewhere in this crowd."

Danielle nodded mutely, and with her free hand grabbed a handful of Reynard's coat. The pair plowed through the sea of people together, no one paying much mind to a 15 year old boy and his young charge. Danielle continued to drink in the sights the city had to offer, all the while being mindful to keep a strong grip on her brother's coat. Her mind completely elsewhere, she didn't notice they were climbing the stairs to a large building until she was plunged into a sudden darkness. The strange thing was, it wasn't truly dark – it was just the contrast from the brightness outside that made it appear so. Danielle gasped as her eyes adjusted to the comparative darkness of the building. There were statues everywhere -- golden men and women and gods, acting out scenes of pathos and drama, falling over one another and glowing strangely in the dim light.

Reynard set her suitcase down, and motioned for one of the porters nearby to come and help the girl with her baggage. He bent down a slight bit, eyelevel with his little sister. "Danielle, I must leave you here. But do not fret, I will be nearby. If you need to find me, the smithy I've been apprenticed to is three blocks away from the opera house. That's not very far at all." He smiled, shakily but somewhat reassuringly. Danielle was still trying to figure out what sparked this sudden change of heart in her brother. "Just tell this porter your name, they are expecting you."

He stood then, looking more like an old man then a young boy. "Goodbye, Danielle." He fussed her hair with one large hand, and then turned towards the huge doors they had come through. Danielle paused for the briefest moment, and then flew towards her brother as fast as her legs would carry her. Leaping into his arms, she buried her head in the crook of his neck. Not a word was spoken between them, but none need have been. Danielle clung to her brother's neck; breathing in the reassuring scent of soap and cologne. She remembered with a sad smile the day she had stolen his cologne, and wasted half a bottle spraying her dolls. He hadn't been exactly happy with her that day, but remembering it, inexplicably, made her pleased. She loved her brother dearly, even if he didn't always seem to return it. Reluctantly, Danielle released her brother and turned back towards the waiting porter.

Reynard watched his little sister speak with the porter, and then turn to follow after his straight-backed form as he disappeared into the innards of the opera house. He was forever grateful she never turned around, for she would have seen the very unmanly tears that glistened on his face.

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After the porter had left her, Danielle took a look around her new surroundings. The girl's dormitories were anything but gorgeous, but they were at least warm and reasonably free of drafts. There were six beds, six night-stands, and Danielle had been assigned a bed which occupied a corner of the room. There were two windows in the room, with red draperies hanging from their sides. The window dressings looked very old, and had faded to a sun-stained pink instead of their once glorious red. There was a door to what looked like a lavatory on the right hand side of the room, which meant Danielle wouldn't have to go traipsing halfway around the opera house to have a bath. Oil lamps stood on the nightstands, some lit, some not. Even so, the room was lit well enough to read in. Even though it was sparse, it was pleasant, and Danielle was sure it would liven up once others were in here with her. No one else was in this room at present, and she suspected practice of some kind was going on. Nonplussed, she began to settle her things into the nook the porter told her would be hers. Her trunk full of clothes she simply put at the foot of the bed – no closet made that an easy choice. Her smaller bag held various things she had not wished to be boxed up – a derrogotype portrait of her family, a treasured doll, and a few books she had taken from her papa's library that were connected with his memory in her mind. Also in the bag was her mother's hairbrush and other assorted toiletries. Danielle unpacked the picture, the brush, and the doll and left the rest in the bag, which she placed under the bed beside the trunk. She had not brought a lot of things with her, so unpacking was mindlessly easy task. Danielle sat on the side of the bed, and kicked her legs back and forth. She was supposed to find a Madame Giry once she arrived, but she had no idea how to navigate the winding, twisting corridors of the opera house. She assumed the other girls would be returning soon, and she could ask them to lead her to Madame Giry.

But for now, she was exhausted from a long and emotional day. Slipping off her shoes, Danielle lay on top of the plain white coverlet and closed her eyes. She didn't want to fall asleep, but just to rest for a while. The bed was cool and inviting, and the pillow behind her head felt marvelous. Danielle felt herself almost being lulled to sleep, and she didn't bother to fight it. She was tired… so, so tired…

Suddenly, Danielle's eyes flew open. Something had touched her hand, she was sure of it. She swung her stocking-covered feet over the side of the bed, eyes wide with fright and chest pounding. It wasn't her imagination, it couldn't be. The touch was cool, and felt like human skin.

"Who's there?"

The answer of the silence was deafening.

"Come on, show yourself! You needn't fear _me_; it is _I_ who is afraid of you!" her voice shook in fear, trembling around the rafters and echoing in her ears. Undaunted by the lack of response, Danielle walked a few steps away from the bed.

"Please come out? I'm not going to harm you, and I'm sure you don't want to harm me either."

The only sound to be heard was her own ragged breathing. "… please? I'm so lonely…"

Danielle walked back to her bed, and sat down on the edge. She bit her lip and determined not to cry. She _was_ lonely, that was the cold, hard truth. She sat in silence for a few minutes, straining to hear the sounds of footsteps. When nothing met her ears, she sank back against the pillow, defeated for the moment. Almost as she closed her eyes, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep; the faraway song of a pipe-organ as her lullaby.

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**Author's note: **_Ooooh creepy:O wonder who that could be... once again, I do not own POTO or any of the cannon charecters. Please review if you can spare the time:D_


	4. Chapter Four: Friends and Acquaintances

"Who's she?"

"I don't know, but she looks like she was rich."

"Bet the photograph's 'er family."

"Bet it _isn't_."

"Contrary li'le snipe."

"_I'm_ not the one making assumptions about things you have no idea about."

"Why you…"

"Sssh, she's waking up!"

Danielle was greeted by two pairs of quizzical eyes, one set crystal blue, and one bright green. They belonged to two girls about her own age; one looked a little older, one a little younger. They were both dressed in ballet clothes – tutus, tights, and soft flat shoes. The blue-eyed one grinned in delight.

"Cor, she's no' dead after all!"

Danielle blinked, not quite sure how to take that statement. The green eyes rolled.

"Don't mind her. I'm Frances, but most people just call me Fran. This crazy is Edith, but everyone mostly just calls her Eddy."

"'ello." The so-called crazy one chimed in, while sucking on a piece of her auburn hair.

Danielle blinked at the two of them, and then grinned a little herself. "I'm Danielle."

"Ooh, fancy one." Edith, or Eddy, was busy examining the hairbrush on the nightstand. "Never seen one like this before." She set it back down, almost reverently.

"It was my mothers." Danielle offered by means of explanation.

Eddy resumed chewing on her hair. "It's verruh lovely. Is that your motha in the photograph?"

Danielle nodded mutely.

Fran examined the picture, too, looking from Christine to Danielle, then back again. "You look a lot like her."

Danielle nodded again. "So I've been told."

Eddy plopped ungracefully on the bed next to Danielle's, throwing worn ballet slippers under the mattress carelessly. "Whot brings you to the Paris opera house?" she said, in her delightfully rough cockney accent.

Danielle hesitated for a moment. Did she really want to tell them that her father had virtually abandoned her here? In a moment, she had fabricated a new story. It was easy enough. "My parents are dead. My sister is getting married, and my brother's apprenticed to a smithy a little ways from here. It was only logical."

Fran's face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry Danielle. We should have guessed, a lot of the girls that come here are orphaned."

Eddy nodded, twirling another lock of hair. "Me mother put me here after me da died. She didn't want me, no more'n the rest of my family did. So I live here."

"I'm one of the few here by choice," Fran said, "I've always loved dancing, so I decided to make a career of it." She pushed a piece of blonde hair out of her eyes. "I take it since you're in our dormitory; you're going to be a dancer, too?"

Danielle nodded, and then smacked her head with the flat of her hand. "_Merde_! I was supposed to see Madame Giry when I came first thing! But the opera house is so big, and I didn't know my way around, and…" Danielle broke into a cold sweat, frightful she had angered the ballet mistress.

Eddy hopped down from the bed, and took Danielle's hand. "We'll take ye, Dany! Dunnot worry, Madame Giry knows it can be t'awful frightful for newcomers in the opera house. She won't be angry w'ye." Tugging a bit on Danielle's hand, Eddy started for the door, with Fran following close behind.

Eddy led Danielle through a twisting maze of corridors, past older dancers and their beaus, open doors to dressing rooms containing divas and their attendants, and statues of all shapes and sizes. Danielle was incredibly glad she hadn't tried to find the ballet mistress herself – she would have been lost in these halls forever, with no one to miss her. Fran assured her every so often that the more you had to; the easier it got to navigate these passages. Danielle could only nod before she was tugged down another darkened hallway by the overenthusiastic Eddy. After what seemed like ages, Eddy skidded to a stop in front of a closed door. To Danielle's dismay, she opened it without even a knock.

"Madame Giry, lookee who I found!" Eddy cried triumphantly, holding Danielle's arm up as if she were a prize.

"_We_ found, Eddy." Fran corrected crossly, and filed in behind Danielle.

"She was asleep on one of the beds in our dormit'ry. I thought she was dead, but she wasn't." Eddy stated, simply.

Danielle smiled timidly at the ballet mistress, who still had her back to the trio. She noticed the worn ballet shoes on her feet, an unexpected contrast the severe black gown she wore. The subtle absence of a ring on the hand that she ran through her graying blonde hair made Danielle wonder why she was called "Madame".

"Thank you Edith, Frances. You may return to your dormitory. Don't forget we're practicing an hour early tomorrow."

"All because of rotten old Sorelli." Fran grumbled, and tugged on Eddy's arm. "Come on, let's go."

Eddy looked somewhat crestfallen, but followed after Fran obediently, leaving Danielle alone with the ballet mistress. The thud of a shutting door had never sounded so final.

Madame Giry turned around to face the meek young girl, and promptly dropped the sheet music she was holding.

"_Mon dieu_, Christine!"

Madame Giry's face turned a sickly shade of white, and Danielle worried that the ballet teacher was going to be ill.

Clearing her throat and smiling at the girl, Madame Giry tried to get control of her emotions. "I'm sorry child, but seeing you was such a shock, especially after hearing of your dear mother's sad demise... but sadly, the past is past. My name is Meg Giry, and I am the ballet instructor here. Your father… your father said you have never danced before?

"Not a step in my life, Madame."

"I see we have some work to do, then." Madame Giry looked down her nose at the girl, as if to size her up. "I do not want to hold you back unnecessarily, and we are always in need of more dancers your age. You will take accelerated classes with me until you have caught up to the level of your flat mates. Is this acceptable, Mam'selle?"

Danielle nodded enthusiastically. She did not want to be seen as the new, awkward girl for any longer than absolutely necessary.

"You will rise at six in the morning with Edith and Frances, and follow them to breakfast and their first class, where on the first day and the first day _only_ you will observe. All others, you will participate. After the rest of the girls leave for their break, you will stay behind with me and I will teach you until the girls return at 10. You will join them for that lesson. You are to stay during break until I feel you have sufficiently caught up to the other girls. This should not be a long time at all, especially if you have inherited your mother's ability as well as her features."

"Thank you, Madame Giry. You are most kind." Danielle curtsied, and turned towards the door.

"Oh, and Danielle?"

Danielle paused, and turned around to face the ballet teacher. She had an odd expression on her face, a look of remembering and contemplation.

"You very much resemble your mother. She was a dear, dear friend of mine many years ago. I miss her greatly."

Danielle nodded meekly, trying not to think too hard on the loss of her mother. "I miss her too, Madame. Thank you."

Madame Giry nodded her head, then lifted one aging hand and shooed Danielle out the door.

------------------------------- -

Danielle tried her best to remember the way back to the dormitory, and eventually found it after half an hour of panicked wandering. As she walked into the dorm, she was greeted by a playfully quarreling Eddy and Fran.

"Eddy, _stop_!" Fran squeeked as Eddy hit her over the head with a pillow from one of the unused beds.

"Then return ta me my brush!"

"Never!" Fran cackled, and darted behind another of the unused beds.

Danielle couldn't help but grin. The two girls were such opposites, but got along marvelously despite of it.

"Lookee, Dany's back!" cried Eddy triumphantly, misappropriated brush forgotten.

"What did Madame Giry have to say, Dany? Do tell, we're starved for new happenings in this room. The most interesting thing that's happened here is Sorelli mouthing off in practice."

"Which isn't too uncommon, as she does it everyday. And you found your way back here alone! Good on ye."

The two girls were nearly falling all over themselves for some news, and Danielle gratefully told them of Madame Giry's talk, leaving out the bit about her mother. There was no need to make her seem a favorite.

"Gaw, Dany, that's going to be t'awful rig'rous." Eddy shook her head in sympathy. "Madame s'not an easy taskmaster."

Fran glared at Eddy, then patted Danielle's arm in a friendly manner. "Don't listen to Eddy; she's just sore 'cause Madame always gets on her for not pointing her toes enough. She's hard, yes, but she's fair and good. You'll learn well under her."

Danielle nodded solemnly, not for the first time wondering what tomorrow morning would hold.

Breaking the silence that had fallen over the room, Eddy threw herself on the bed next to Danielle's. "Get ready fur bed, ye two! Ruddy lot of good you'll be in the mornin' if yur still half asleep!"

Danielle pulled a nightgown out from her traveling trunk, and slipped it on over her head. Fran was already snuggled beneath her covers, the other two girls having already been in their pajamas when Danielle had returned to the room. She quickly braided her hair for the night, and then dimmed her oil lamp. The other two girls followed suit, and soon the room was filled with Eddy's quiet snores and Fran's soft breathing.

Danielle lay wide awake into the night, listening to the silence of the sleeping opera house. No floorboards creaked comfortingly as in her old home, no murmur of voices from the room next door – there was nothing except Eddy's quiet, whuffling snores. Rolling onto her side, Danielle could barely make out the outline of her picture frame in the darkness. She touched it reverently with one fingertip, tracing the side of the pewter frame. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Her family was sadly fragmented, possibly beyond hope of reconciliation. She closed her eyes, squeezing tears from their corners. Danielle wasn't sure the ache in her heart was ever going to leave. As she drifted off to an exhausted sleep, she dimly recognized the strains of an old song that her mother had sung to her when she was younger. But instead of high and trembling as her mother's voice had been, this was deep and baritone, and chased by the haunted sound of a pipe-organ. Despite her best wishes, Danielle drifted into a dreamless sleep, forgetting she had even heard the song from her childhood.

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_**Author's note: **hhhm. where is this leading, I wonder:D As usual, I dont own POTO or any of the charecters it contains, despite my wishes to the contrary -shifty eyes- ;) if you can spare a moment of your time to review, it would mean the world to me. Thanks bunches!_


	5. Chapter Five: In The Morning

Danielle awoke to the sounds of feet padding softly across the hard wooden floorboards. She opened her eyes slowly, painfully almost. She was pitifully tired, even after sleeping for nine straight hours. Yawning, she swung her legs out of bed and placed her feet on the cold floor. She acutely missed the warm rug on the floor of her room in the manor as her toes met with the ice-cold wood.

"Come on, Dany, we've let ye sleep for as long as we possibly could. Its 5:30 now, if ye wants nay'athing ta eat, speed is of the essence!" cried Eddy cheerfully.

Fran was busy brushing out her hair, and pulling it back into the severe bun that dancers often wore. She was already in her pink ballet clothes, something Danielle realized she didn't have. She panicked to herself for a moment, before she realized Fran was sizing her up.

"Hhhm. You're almost my size, but a tad bit skinnier… well, try this extra suit on, it will work till Madame gives you your own." Fran tossed Danielle a gauzy practice skirt, followed by a leotard and tights. Eddy threw her a pair of ballet shoes. Dressing as quickly as she could, Danielle found the gear fit well enough for present and happily thanked her roommates. They simply seemed delighted to have another friend, or victim as it were. Before Danielle could say anything, she could feel Eddy pulling her hair back into the harsh bun she had seen Fran wearing, while reaching out with one hand for Fran to hand her a ribbon to hold it in place. Before Danielle could say anything else, she was being pulled out the door by Eddy. Danielle learned quickly one did not walk through the halls of the opera house with Eddy, one ran.

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Breakfast was a simple fare, consisting of some baguettes and cheese. Danielle ate with gusto; not realizing how hungry she had been until when her stomach grumbled loudly while she had been in line. Unfortunately, this had drawn the attention of the other dancers, who were now chatting amongst themselves about the quiet newcomer. Fran patted Danielle's hand reassuringly, trying to tell her the other girls meant no harm. Eddy was sure they'd all end up liking her new friend, despite her timid nature. Eddy mused to herself that Danielle's timidness would soon be a thing of the past. One could not be both quiet and a performer – one of those would inevitably strangle the other. She devoured her breakfast portion with the hunger of a ravenous wolf, all the while eyeing Danielle's untouched apple zealously.

Danielle's eyes searched the room like a frightened prey animal, peering into the staring eyes of the other dancers. They ranged in age from six years to mid-twenties, and came in various shapes and sizes. Danielle recognized a dancer they had nearly collided with last night – her attentions had been more preoccupied with the handsome boy fawning all over her then on three small ballet girls racing through the halls, though. She sat in the company of the other older dancers. Their adoring looks showed how much they idolized her, and Danielle figured she had to be the _prima ballerina_. Absorbed in her observations of the other dancers, she hardly noticed as Eddy swiped her apple.

"Girls!" came a boisterous voice from the end of the hall. A rather stout, mustachioed man stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. He was well dressed in a suit of maroon fabric, and his grey hair and cheery smile causing him to resemble a favorite uncle or grandfather.

"Good morning, Monsieur Andre!" the girls cried in chorus, smiling at the co-owner of the opera house.

"How was breakfast, girls?" he asked, waving at the cooks and snatching a croissant from one of the baskets.

There was a mixed reply to his question this time, some bemoaning the fact that they had had apples for the last three days, others praising the fresh baked bread.

M. Andre laughed, a deep and happy sound that came from his belly and shook his whole frame. "Never satisfied, are we, little ballet rats?"

The responses were just as mixed as before, but Danielle could tell there was a jest behind the 'no's. As had M. Andre. He laughed again, and grabbed two of the youngest girls in a hug. They giggled joyfully, and busied themselves with the darker purple band on his tall hat. Chuckling, he freed his hat from the fingers of the two girls, and kissed them soundly on the top of their heads.

Eddy leaned over towards Danielle, smelling somewhat pleasantly of apples. "Those two are 'is sis's kids. Six an' seven, respectively. Very promising girls, they are." Eddy nodded knowledgeably. Danielle smiled, not at Eddy, but at the display of familiar affection between the three. It reminded her of her papa, and when she had been much younger.

Fran chuckled beside her. "But don't think this happy display is just for the benefit of his two beloved nieces. M. Andre's always been this way. His partner on the other hand…" Fran gave a quick shudder and a sheepish grin.

"'E's a piece of work, that one." Eddy said pointedly, mulling over the remains of the apple she had stolen as the three watched the little girls with their uncle.

Danielle tried with all her might not to be jealous, but without success. She already missed her family dearly. She didn't have much time to lapse into self pity, however, before a loud rapping noise startled her from her thoughts.

There stood Madame Giry at the doorway, her grey eyes glinting with something hovering between amusement and anger, her hands fastened around the handle of a severe black cane. Danielle surmised this was where the rapping noise had originated. A deathlike hush fell over the ballet girls as they stared at their mistress.

"Did I not say we were to begin an hour early today?" M. Giry said, her voice even and as cold as ice.

The younger girls lowered their heads and their forks, and began shuffling in the direction of the ballet misters, who glowered at each cowed head as it passed her by. Danielle followed suit, trying not to smile as she observed Eddy sneaking a bite of a roll before she joined the rest of the girls.

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The two hours of practice was long, hard and grueling. Or so it appeared to Danielle. Madame Giry had seated her slightly away from the rest of the girls, a place where she could observe unhindered but without being an obstruction. She twiddled her pink fabric-covered toes in patterns on the floor as the rest of the ballet girls twirled and leapt gracefully into the air, only to be brought down by another loud crack of Madame's cane. Danielle was growing quite accustomed to the banging caused by the cane. It was actually a very good way to get the attention of all the girls at once, and she could easily see why Madame utilized it. There was not a girl in the room who didn't stop mid-pirouette at the crack of the cane. Distracting herself a little from the whirl of graceful skirts, Danielle looked around the backstage. A vast array of old props greeted her questioning eyes, and a veritable cornucopia of backdrops and scene staging made the stage seem like three worlds at once. If she hadn't been so afraid of sparking M. Giry's ire, she might have gone exploring. _Perhaps I could convince Eddy and Fran to show me around later today_, she thought to herself. Smiling at her friends as they danced across the room, Danielle hummed a wordless tune. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't exactly place it. One particular part played in her mind over and over again, and she just couldn't shake it. She tried humming it to herself, but it didn't feel as if she had gotten it correct. Danielle was beginning to get frustrated. Just as she was about to give it up for good, a whispering caught her attention. She whirled around as best she could on the box, eyes wide and heart racing.

"Who's there?" she whispered, her voice a ghost. She was by no means unflappable, especially lately, and her voice trembled with fear and betrayed the quaking of her heart.

"No one to fear, you have met me before. Do you not remember me?" a voice as rich and as smooth as chocolate spoke honeyed words into her ear.

Danielle shuddered in spite of herself. "I don't believe so. I swear on my life, I have _never_ met you before." She was completely terrified, and nearly called out for M. Giry, her wrath be damned.

The voice seemed taken aback – bewildered and saddened. "You do not know me?"

A loud thunk of the cane startled Danielle, causing her to spring to her feet. "Danielle? Whatever are you doing?" Madame stared at her questioningly. "Practice for the other girls ended five minutes ago."

Danielle looked at her feet sheepishly. "I am sorry, Madame Giry. I'm afraid I've let my mind carry me away. It wont happen again."

Madame stared at her for a moment, and then beckoned her to come to the center stage. Danielle obeyed, and for now, the melodic voice was forgotten.

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_**Author's note**: Thank you to everyone who has read this far, and especially to those who have reviewed -- your feedback helps immensly:D I hope yall enjoyed the latest chapter. As always, reviews are very much apperciated if you have the time. Let me know what you think:) The Usual Disclaimer: I dont own POTO or any of the cannon charecters._


	6. Chapter Six: Brothers

_**Authors note:** aaah I am late. This chapter was long in writing (ugh losing inspiration in the middle of a scene truly sucks.) and mostly filler. But rest easy, the good stuff is coming:D once again, reviews and such welcome and wanetd very, very badly LOL. also, I dont own POTO, as much as I would like to._

------------------------------- - Several Weeks Later

Danielle had settled well into ballet life. She enjoyed the classes and seemed to be progressing well in them – well, better than she herself had expected, at least. Madame expected her to continue their private classes together for at least another month, even though Danielle was about the level of Fran and Eddy now. The girls had quickly become Danielle's best friends, and the three of them were almost inseparable. They found plenty of ways to amuse themselves in the opera house, most of them involving sneaking places they weren't supposed to go, harassing the various staff members, or playing with abandoned props. Danielle had been surprised to discover that Eddy was actually very good with a sword, or very bad depending on one's perspective. Madame Giry had definitely been curious about the gash that ran up her forearm. But, mostly, times were good, and the smile that curved on Danielle's face became more of a permanent fixture than a fleeting sign of amusement.

On one of the rare occasions she had time to herself, having begged off scavenging in the kitchen with the other two due to a small headache, a thought struck Danielle. Why not visit Reynard? She had not seen her brother for quite some time, and there was hardly a good excuse not to, seeing as he was a short walk away. Delighted by the idea, Danielle quickly scribbled a note to her compatriots, telling them of her intentions and asking them to save her a bit of dinner if they could. She could smell whatever it was that the cooks were roasting already, and although she didn't want to miss what was sure to be a fabulous meal, the desire to see Reynard was stronger then that for a hot meal. Slipping into her cranberry velvet cloak, she left the dormitory and began to navigate the winding maze of corridors that led to a side tunnel. Fran had been right; it was a skill that became easier with time. She had only made three wrong turns this time instead of the usual seven or eight, a fact which pleased her irrationally, as did many things. Humming a wordless tune to herself, she waved goodbye to the porter and stepped into the crisp March day.

The sunlight blinded her momentarily -- it always did when she left the opera house. Granted, she did not venture out often, so sunlight was somewhat foreign to her face now. It had not always been so, but it was the way of things now. Danielle was slowly learning to accept her new life, and in some ways even enjoy it. The dull ache that came from missing her family still burned in a corner of her heart, but dancing and Eddy and Fran began to occupy the other bit of it. A cold wind nearly tore her cloak from her shoulders, snapping her quickly from her reverie. In her daydreaming she had nearly walked into the middle of the busy Rue Scribe, which was a risky proposition at best. Her dallying startled a cabdriver, who pulled the reins of his horses back in a near futile attempt to stop their murderous hooves from crushing the small girl. The horses whinnied, pained by the bits that now cut sharply into the soft flesh of their mouths, and stopped their canter mid-beat. Their shoes threw sparks on the cobblestones as the momentum of their fine black bodies caused them to skid a few feet on the dirty city street. Danielle screamed, and threw herself out of the path of the wild-eyed beats. Her newly-acquired dancer's grace had served her well, and thankfully she landed comparatively softly on the grimy cobblestones.

"Mademoiselle! Are you hurt?" the cab driver cried, and leapt down from his perch on the driver's seat. Danielle's face flamed in embarrassment… if only she hadn't had her fool head in the clouds!

"Thank you for your concern Monsieur, I am quite alright." Danielle brushed the dust off of her skirt, neglecting to notice the little red streaks her palms were leaving on the brown fabric. She turned to face the man, trying in vain to straighten her fussed hair. "I apologize for any – _Reynard_!" She cried, half in joy, half in surprise. Her brother stood before her, equally surprised at seeing his youngest sister. The familiar spark of anger glistened in his eye, but this time Danielle didn't turn her soft hazel eyes from fiery brown ones.

"Danielle! You damn fool of a girl, what were you doing in the middle of the street?" Reynard fumed, his fists balling and unballing at his sides. "You could have been killed!"

Danielle met her brother's gaze evenly, something she had never quite been able to do at home. "I was going to find _you_, if you must know." She said, keeping her tone even and cool.

"Do you believe me to reside in the _middle of the street_?" Reynard growled, but some of the ire was receding from his face. He ran a hand through his hair, which had if possible grown even shaggier in the weeks she hadn't seen him.

"No, but I did believe you to be a smith's apprentice instead of a cabbie. What happened, Reynard?" Danielle questioned, eyes quizzical. She was truly curious as to why her brother was driving a cab as opposed to beating metal into shape with a hammer – even though she thought her brother was better off with the animals then standing beside a hot furnace all day.

"I… we… umm…" Reynard, for the first time Danielle had seen, was searching for words. He finally muttered something about creative differences, and looked his younger sister squarely in the eye. "Besides, cab driving earns better, believe it or not. I have a nice room completely to myself, with enough money to cover most everything I require. Smithing wasn't for me." He said hesitantly, as if searching for approval from his sibling.

"Enough money for everything except a haircut, I see." Danielle grinned. As if to prove her point, Reynard's blackbrown hair flopped once more into his eyes. Pushing it out of the way with annoyance, he glowered at his sister, but his eyes were not without their smile.

"I see your point." He said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Danielle grinned back at him, and then changed the subject completely. "Where do you live now, Reynard? So I may come visit you, and maybe if you're lucky give you a haircut." She smiled at her older brother.

Reynard's face blanched for a moment, and his answer came in a jumbled, hurried fashion. "I really don't think that would be best at the moment, Danielle."

Danielle's face fell. "Why not? Surely its not too far from here, and even if it is, I get a small allowance, I could save my _sous _for a carriage fare."

"Its not a safe part of town Danielle. I couldn't, in good conscience, let you go there -- especially alone. Perhaps it would be best if I was the one who did the visiting for a while, instead." He smiled a weak smile at his sister. Danielle could tell there was something else, something he wasn't saying. His chocolate eyes held no sincerity within their depths.

Danielle mustered her brightest smile for her brother. "Why not come have dinner with me, then? I've already missed dinner at the opera house. Besides, I miss you, Reynard."

Reynard looked back at the cab, with the two black horses patiently awaiting direction. "I really have to get back to work, Dany, or there will _be_ no dinner for me I'm afraid."

Danielle's features fell, despite her best efforts to keep face from betraying the hurt she felt at her brother's refusal, no matter how gentle he had been. "Oh… I understand. Ill… see you soon, though?" she queried, hoping for a positive response this time.

A grin, albeit small, cracked Reynard's features. "Yes, little sister, shortly. I promise. Now, I really must get back to work. May I escort you home, Mam'selle?" the small grin turned into a cheeky one, and he offered his arm to Danielle.

Smiling, Danielle slipped her arm into the crook of his, and allowed him to assist her into the front seat of the carriage. Reynard leapt up beside her, and with a click of his tongue and a flick of the reigns, the sleek black animals began to trot. The opera house loomed in front of the pair, massive despite the fact that they were still a few blocks away from the main entrance. The rooftop angels, brilliant in their golden splendor, glistened and sparkled in the bright daytime sun. When she visited Paris previously, Danielle had been captivated by these angels of music, a quirk which she had carried into her later years. Their unseeing eyes seemed to bore into her and her brother, both guiding and judging them as they rattled along the slushy winter street.

The ride was over all too soon for Danielle's liking, and they rolled to a slow stop in front of the massive steps to the opera house. Her brother hopped off the high front seat of the carriage with practiced ease, and once again offered his gloved hand to her. Grasping it tightly, she swung herself down the steep seat.

"Good-by, at least for now, Reynard." Danielle tried to smile, but the expression on her face was a sad effigy of her usual grin.

Reynard leaned over and planted a brotherlike kiss on her cheek. "Good-by, little sister. Keep warm, and I shall see you soon." Doffing his hat to her in another uncharacteristic display of cheeriness, he clambered back up into the carriage seat.

"Castor, Pollux, lets go." Two glossy black heads shot up, and yielded to the direction of their harnesses. Reynard and his carriage turned back down the Rue Scribe, the ebony horses trotting along demurely.

Danielle climbed the steep steps to the opera house door with haste, reasoning if she hurried she might make it in time to get some leftovers from the cooks. She hadn't been gone more than half and hour, but that was more than enough time for several starving ballet rats to devour the entire meal. Her feet, enclosed in a pair of retired ballet shoes, made little whispering noises as she clambered up the stairs. She had taken to wearing ballet slippers in place of her regular shoes – they were far more comfortable, and were better for sneaking around in. Opening one of the great doors, she winced a little as her eyes adjusted to the dark of the opera house. Oddly enough, there was no bustle of life inside the grand building, but Danielle merely assumed they were away eating their dinner. With soft step, she continued towards the dining hall, eyes on the statues that watch-dogged the entryway. Golden eyes stared unseeing at the brown-haired girl, gilded heads turned as the dancer stepped sure-footedly down the unfamiliar, dark hallway.

Suddenly, a voice edged in pain, and ringed with anger, broke the cool silence of the entranceway. "You _have_ forgotten your angel!"


	7. Chapter Seven: Meetings

Danielle whirled around, the sudden movement sending her various layers of clothing spinning after her. "_Who_? Who is there! Answer me!" she screamed, eyes wide in panic and terror.

"Your _angel_! You _must_ know me, you must!" the agonized voice cried again. "Come to your senses, how can it be that you cannot remember _me_!" the disembodied voice cracked with raw emotion and undisguised anguish.

"I call _no man_ angel!" Danielle cried, voice trembling and unsure. "I cannot even see you! How am I to know you when I cannot even see your face?" In despair, Danielle stood in the middle of the grand entryway, back to the door, eyes frantically searching the shadows for the source of the voice.

"No, no, you shall _never see my face_!" the voice rose to a fever pitch. "No man shall see my face! I am shadow, I am darkness, and I am Angel. _Know me as such_!" The voice was angry now, angrier than Danielle had ever heard anything be in her entire life.

"No, monsieur!" Danielle backed away from the directed she believed the voice to be coming from, eyes searching the shadows frantically and hands raised in a gesture of acquiescence. "Do what you please with your face, if you do not wish for me to see it then I shall not."

There was silence for a moment, Danielle's compliance seeming to have quelled his fury for the time being. The voice was sad again. "Why do you back away from me? Do you not know me?"

Danielle shook her head, shaking and terrified. "I swear monsieur; I do not know you by name, though I know you have spoken to me before."

A shadow to the left of Danielle shifted, and her panicked glance flew there in an instant. Light glinted of an object in the darkness, and then the shadow was still. "But that's impossible. Are you ill? My dear, of course we have conversed before… I have spoken to you almost every night for the last six years."

Danielle's face turned a ghastly shade of white. She took a few steps backwards on legs as wobbly as a newborn calf's, the room spinning around her. She could only barely hear the voice calling to her, over and over again, his words melting like butter and flowing together unrecognizably. The strength of the frightened girl failed her, and a warm, welcoming darkness cradled her senses.

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The world swam before half-open eyes, and colours ran together in a wonderful dance of awakening known only to those recovering from illness. Danielle blinked slowly, trying to clear her muddled vision. She realized very quickly that she was no longer on the floor of the opera house foyer, but somewhere very different -- and very much warmer. Extravagant red blankets covered her small body, the outline of her legs making small mountains in the rich fabric. Danielle wiggled her toes, reluctant to leave the heat of the covers, and closed her eyes again with a sleepy sigh. The world could wait, she had a terrible headache.

"Come 'round, you must wake up _some_ time."

Danielle stifled an annoyed groan. Her head hurt her so badly, and even the stranger's honey-smooth voice was like a knife through her skull. "Please…" she whimpered, and rolled over to face away from the stranger. The blackness behind her eyes felt warm and inviting, and her head pounded so badly…

"You cannot sleep any longer. Obey your angel -- Awaken." The voice was slightly gruffer now, possibly with annoyance. Danielle chose to ignore it once more, and shut her eyes.

"No!" the voice growled, and a strong hand took her by the shoulder. "You must not sleep any more."

Shocked awake by the strength of the grip and the anger in the once-gentle voice, Danielle twisted her head towards the speaker. What she saw captivated her. Iron-grey hair lay in disarray over the man's head, and into his eyes – soft grey irises that flickered with inner sadness. His mouth was twisted into something that resembled both a smile and a grimace, and the right half of his smile seemed to dissolve into a twisting mass of red flesh. But it was the white leather mask that hid the right side of that face from prying eyes that held her gaze. The steely eye that stared back at her from its white cave widened in surprise, and possibly in fear.

"So tha's why you wouldn't let me see yer face…" Daniele mumbled drowsily, reaching out with one hand to touch the cool white of the leather, too disoriented to realize the brashness of such an action.

The stranger reached out his hand and caught her small one in it. "_No_." he said vehemently. The sadness had been sapped out of grey eyes, and coldness had replaced it. "If you look upon your Angel, he will leave you for sure."

Confused and too sleepy to comprehend much of what the masked stranger was saying, Danielle only nodded.

"You hit your head rather sharply on the marble. I am sorry, dear child, my intent was not to frighten you." All the anger had left the stranger, and the look in his eyes was some of sorrowful remorse.

"S'kay." Danielle slurred, really wishing he'd leave her alone and let her sleep some more. "I'm not holdn' it 'gainst you." Her voice was barely a whisper now. "I'm just… so tired…" she yawned, eyes watering, and pulled the covers up tighter around her shoulders.

Before she could fall completely asleep, however, a cup of steaming hot liquid was shoved rather ingloriously under her nose. "Drink this." The masked man said again, tones clipped and terse.

"You're so grumpy." Danielle mumbled crossly, and sitting up slowly, took the proffered cup in trembling hands. Taking a small sip, she was delighted to find that the steaming liquid it contained was raspberry tea – a favorite recipe of her mothers. Despite her best wishes, she could feel herself waking up bit by bit.

"You will return to the ballet dormitories as quickly as possible, I do not wish to incur the wrath of Madame Giry for kidnapping one of her rats. You should be home by nightfall." The stranger was no longer facing her, and his words resounded oddly in the oddly shaped… cave?

Completely awakened, she became more aware of her surroundings. The bed she was laying on was rich and warm, the frame shaped in the elegant curve of a swan. The room they were in did appear to be an underground chamber, but oddly enough did not seem dark and foreboding. There was a kind of a golden light bathing the room, similar to the light on the Parisian streets but darker, older, and maybe a little colder still. Golden candelabras lined the room, some lit, some not. Their flickering shadows danced over the uneven walls, spots of which were covered in drawings of various places in the opera house. Shadows licked at the bottom of the long cape the stranger was wearing, giving him the appearance of being a shade himself. He was tall, and muscular, and looked from the back to be like any other normal man. But Danielle knew that the front held a shock of white that contrasted strangely against the deep blackness of the rest of the stranger, which set him apart from the rest of humanity. A sharp stab of pity flooded her heart, and Danielle opened her mouth to speak to the stranger, perhaps to say something comforting. But the words died in her throat, for just then the stranger turned around and his icy gaze caught hers and froze it.

He didn't say a word, but then again, he didn't have to. In three short strides he crossed the room and sat down at an organ, and began to play. She had never heard anything like it before in the span of her 12 years. The notes seemed to form a life and corporeal form of their own, and danced windingly in the space over her head. She barely noticed when the strangers own voice joined the dance until the song reached it crescendo. His voice once again possessed the honeylike quality it had the first time he had spoken to her, it hypnotized her, drawing her closer towards it source and yet at the same time pushing her further and further away. Danielle felt herself falling back into her dreamless sleep, and she was powerless to resist the call of the cool darkness. The cup slipped from her numbed fingers, and shattered on the floor.

The masked stranger crossed the room quickly, and knelt beside the sleeping girl, ignoring the mess of shards and sticky tea on the ground. He gently picked her up, cradling her small body in his strong arms. She seemed so fragile, so vulnerable – were all children this way? He silently cursed fate for not allowing him the chance to discover the answer for himself. She should be his daughter; he should have a lovely wife who resembled her. This child should have been born of his love. Something nagged the back of his crowded mind, but he pushed it away once more and buried it. No, fate had made him a monster, and monsters did not love, or have wives and certainly not children. Holding this fragile girl was as close as he would ever get to cradling his own child. Tears threatened the corners of his eyes, and he willed them away out of hardened habit. Monsters had no feelings, monsters cannot cry. As the man and girl neared the massive underground lake beneath the opera house, an overwhelming sense of loss filled the masked man. Gently placing the sleeping girl in the bottom of a gondola that was tethered to the embankment, he stepped in behind her and reached for the pole that would propel the boat away from his home. He thought for a moment he would throw the pole in the water, and keep the girl with him forever. But reason won out once more, and he pushed the boat away from the shoreline. She would resent him forever if he removed her from the light, and the precious boy she was so fond of in the world above. He did not want the little girl to hate him. Despite his best efforts, a tear escaped and made a solitary track down his face. Everyone else had hated him, why should this girl be any different? Kneeling down carefully in the bottom of the boat, he stroked her hair lightly with his gloved hand. The turmoil in the back of his head exploded, and it took all his effort to push reality away. She was not his; she could never be his little girl.

"Good-by, Christine."

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**Author's note: **_poor, confused Phantom. :( Hope yall are enjoying this so far, and that it was worth the wait :P feel free to leave me a review with questions, Ill do my best to awnser them. Heck, feel free to leave a review, period. ;) once again, I dont own POTO or any of the cannon charecters therein, so please dont sue me, I will cry._


	8. Chapter Eight: Insinuation

Meg Giry raced down the cold stone stairs in a manner completely inglorious for a dignified ballet teacher. Only moments ago, Edith and Frances had come to her in tears, saying that Danielle was still missing when she should have been back hours ago. Even the stoic little Frances girl had been moved by the absence of her new friend, tears gleaming in the corners of her emerald eyes. After reassuring the two girls as best as she was able, she left them in the care of the cooks, who promised to occupy the two till her return. Meg's mind was a jumble of thoughts as she traveled into the bowels of the opera house. If Christine's daughter was missing, there was only one logical outcome… that _he_ had finally noticed her presence.

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The masked man was greeted by a very unhappy Meg Giry as he stepped through the mirror in the now-unused dressing room. She was older than he had remembered her to be, especially considering the age of the little Christine he held in his arms. But his mind, twisted and confused, simply assimilated this fact and deemed it to be rational and nothing to be troubled with.

"Meg Giry." He said, nodding his head civilly in her direction.

"Phantom." She said coldly, eyes never leaving his. Her mother had placed a good deal of trust in this man, but Meg had never been able to forge the relationship with him that her mother had. She remembered, or chose to remember, only the bad.

"I have returned your friend. She is unharmed, except for what damage she did to herself."

Blood pressure rising, Meg balled her petite white hands into fists. "What. happened." she growled, reaching possessively for the small girl who still lay unconscious in the phantom's arms.

"Nothing she did not inflict on herself." The phantom repeated, eyes glowing with anger. He had never liked this Giry girl, and she was trying his patience. As if he would ever hurt the sleeping angel he held so lovingly. "She fell and hit her head. I merely gave her a restorative and lulled her back to sleep. She will sleep soundly through the night. Tomorrow, however, she will have a terrible headache. I advise you to let your mother know that Christine will not be attending practice ballet tomorrow."

Meg's eyes winded. _Mon dieu_. She decided it may be better not to trifle with his idea just yet. She had never known the Phantom to be a stable man, and if his delusion was snatched out from under him, there was no telling what acts of violence he would be capable of committing. She had the ballet girls to think of, and the opera was just beginning to regain some ground after he destroyed it so grandly the last time, for the love of this girl's mother. She would not chance her home again, not if the thought that Christine was still alive and in the opera house was the only thing holding it together.

"I will tell my mother, _Monsieur le Phantom_." Meg said, arms outstretched. "Let me take Christine back to our room." She pleaded, beseeching the dangerous iron-haired man.

Reluctantly, the Phantom gingerly relinquished the sleeping girl to Meg's outstretched arms. "Take care not to drop her." He growled, eyes smoldering. "Give her some tea when she awakens." With a whirl of his cape, the masked Phantom disappeared behind the mirror once more. Not the first time, and probably not the last.

Meg looked down at the sleeping girl in her arms. She could easily see how already-unstable Phantom took her to be her mother. Aside from her straighter hair, the only noticeable difference between Christine and her daughter was her daughter's piercing grey eyes. Her inheritance of her mother's looks had driven a man, already insane with grief, even further away from reality until he had created his own to comfort his aching soul.

Meg stared at the mirror, wondering if the Phantom of the Opera still stood on the other side. He was dangerous, maybe even more so now that he was delusional. Danielle would never understand how lucky she was to have returned to the world of the light so easily. Meg narrowed her dark eyes in anger, wrapped her arms a little tighter around the slumbering girl. Her eyes glowed and fierce scowl was written on her features – for all the world, she quite resembled a mother bear in all her rage.

"Erik, _leave us alone_."

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Danielle giggled at herself for stumbling in the lush grass of the meadow. Her dark hair, unbound for once, streamed behind her as she chased some unknown creature of her own design. Her skin had the slight brown tint of outdoor summers, her cheeks the pink flush of health and joy. She was barefoot, and comfortable being so – she was free, and besides, there were no rocks or otherwise painful obstacles in her meadow. Far away to the right, she could see her father and her sister – they were waving to her, beckoning her to come near. Danielle stopped in her tracks, hair settling in disarray over her neck and shoulders. Why would they possibly be calling her? They were far off yet, and Danielle chose to ignore them. She turned her back to the two, and ran off in the other direction. A little of her previous cheer had fled, but she still clung to her happy grin. Her eyes sparkled with newfound mirth as she created a new adventure in her head. Sitting down in the soft grass, she picked two flowers and toyed with them casually, careful not to bruise their fragile buds. The sunlight warmed her back as Danielle hummed a tune to herself.

"Dany?"

_Mama!_ Danielle abandoned her flowers, and ungracefully scrambled to her feet.

"Here I am mama!" She called, arms outstretched. "Catch me mama, here I am!" Her mother was only a few feet away from her now, kneeling down in the soft lawn. She grinned at her youngest child, a warm and welcoming smile that reminded Danielle of cookies and beautiful bedtime lullabies from her younger years. Giggling, she launched herself into the air, and was caught soundly by two strong arms who swung her into the air.

"Reynard?" she asked, leaning back in her older brother's embrace. He gave his sister a rare, true, smile, before handing her small form to her waiting mother's arms.

"You didn't catch me, mama." Danielle pouted, but only for an instant. She laughed joyfully, and threw her little arms around her mother's neck. "I love you mama!" She cried, burying her nose in her mother's curly tresses. Her mother smelt of roses, and the dampness of a summer morning. Her mother answered in turn, her voice lilting and happy like Danielle always remembered.

"Sing me a song, mama!" Danielle giggled, and squirmed to be put down. "Sing me a song from the opera!"

Danielle's smile fled as a cloud passed over her mother's pretty features.

"Oh Dany…"

Danielle held her hands out to her mother, a confused and perplexed look blossoming on her features. "I'm sorry mama, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, please don't cry mama!"

Christine knelt down in front of her daughter, and embraced her tightly. She made no sound; not a single syllable escaped her rosy lips.

"I'm sorry mama, I'm so sorry, please forgive me!" Danielle cried, unsure of what was causing her mother's distress.

Through her blurry eyes, Danielle could see her father and sister standing behind Christine. Danielle let go of her mother, and straightened up to face the rest of her family. A glint of anger she had never known her father's eyes to posses smoldered in them now, and he placed a heavy gloved hand on her mother's shoulder. Christine's eyes traveled up the arm that held her shoulder in its vise-like grip, wide with trepidation. Slowly, she stood up, and took the hand on her shoulder with both her own. Her eyes never once left Raoul's.

All four turned their gaze towards Danielle in one smooth, snapping motion. It appeared to the young girl that the meadow was not as bright as it once was, and the grass now prickled beneath her feet. Expressive grey eyes widened in fear, she stepped away from her family. Four pairs of eyes bored into hers – two filled with anger, two pairs begging forgiveness and pleading for her silence.

But with a flash of light, neither the meadow nor her family stood before her anymore. There was only the ceiling of her dormitory in the opera house.

Danielle sat straight up, gasping for breath. Trembling fingers clawed at her shoulders, shuddering and trying to quell the sobs the dream had awakened in her chest. Her mother was dead; she had _not _just talked to her, she had not asked her to sing or even given her a hug. Nothing she had done mattered, because it was all a dream. Leaping out of her bed, Danielle paced the floor in a fashion resembling a caged animal, hands buried in her thick chocolate hair.

"Danielle, Danielle, calm yourself." The smooth, soft voice of her ballet teacher wafted through the darkness, stopping the terrified girl in her tracks. "It was only a dream, Danielle."

Danielle reached out blindly, looking for affection, a hug, reassurance, anything. The hurt that welled up once again inside her chest refused to be subdued; she could not put it back into its neat little box.

Meg Giry embraced the heartbroken young girl, wrapping her arms lovingly around her small frame. All of the times she had held this girl's mother in a similar fashion came back to her in a flood of cheerless memories. Christine had never fully recovered from the death of her father, and a nagging sigh in the back of her mind told her that that Danielle's path would not be much of a deviation.

The frightened and broken girl Meg held in her arms made no sound; her silent cries rending the heart of the stern ballet mistress in two. Closing her eyes, Meg tilted her head to the ceiling as she cried the tears she had never shed for the death of her dear friend. She remembered all too acutely her own pain, that she had hidden from sight for so long. The death of her father, the loss of her mother due to age and stress, and the untimely demise of her dear best friend all clawed at separate corners of her heart, bringing the walls she had held in place for so long to a crashing demise.

Completely unbeknownst to the grieving pair, a pair of shining iron-grey eyes studied them from the shadows. Erik had his secrets, and his secrets are Erik's alone.

** author's little note: **_another kind of "filler" chapter. I promise, things will pick up! This is prolly my least favorite one Ive written so far. It didnt come naturally at all (curse you, writer's block!) Im not very happy with it. As always, your feedback and comments are welcomed, suggestions or the pointing out of grevious errors are also wonderful things indeed. hope you guys are enjoying this so far! once again, I dont own POTO or any of the cannon charecters._


	9. Chapter Nine: Behind the Glass

Fran raced ahead of her two friends, giggling cheerfully. The drama of the past few weeks had all but been forgotten, and the three friends had happily resumed their normal pattern of dancing and running rampant around the large opera house. There was so much to explore, Fran reasoned, that the three of them could never canvas the entire opera house before they turned 16. But she was going to make sure they tried their best.

Today's expedition was slightly more dangerous than their usual – they had decided before falling asleep last night that the first chance they got, they would visit some of the portions of the building unused after the great fire. The trio had yet to find one that could hold their interest, however… they had entered several dressing rooms and found nothing of great import aside from a few dust-covered chairs and dressing-tables. Eddy, however, had found a little hand-mirror, untouched by the fire albeit by dust. She was busy polishing the glass on her skirt, pausing in this operation every few minutes to blow on the rapidly-clearing surface and admire her reflection. Danielle dallied along only a few paces behind Fran. She seemed very distracted… something she had been more often than not lately. Fran watched as her friend saw without seeing, ambling along in the preoccupied walk of those with a load far too heavy bearing on their minds.

"Dany?" Fran said, turning her little blonde head towards her distant friend. Danielle's head snapped towards Fran with a quickness that suggested her gentle query had startled the girl.

"Yes, Fran?" Danielle answered, grey eyes widened and pupils dilated.

_Something was definitely wrong_. "Nothing. Nevermind." Fran said, and turned around again. She spied a door handle dead ahead, and sprang forward quickly, grateful for something to talk about. "Look!" she cried, fingers grabbing at the tarnished gold handle.

Eddy looked up from the little mirror, and fairly leapt to Fran's side. "This one looks fair gor'geous! Lookit the flowers painted ohwn!"

Danielle came up slowly behind her two friends, steps measured and cautious.

"It is pretty, I suppose…"

"You suppose?!" Eddy gasped, mouth wide in mockery. "I've ne'r seen much of anything this pretty in my life!" a finger, grubby with dust from the mirror, traced the outline of one of the pink flowers. "Lets go in." Eddy said impulsively, and pushed down on the door handle. To the surprise of all present, it gave easily, and the double doors swung wide open to reveal an elegant dressing room. Although the room was covered in a fine layer of dust, it still retained much of what must have been its original brilliance. It was completely untouched by the fire, no smell of smoke pervaded the air, no sooty black trails went up the walls. A lingering smell of dead roses hung in the air, a sickly sweet smell that seemed to hit Danielle right in the stomach. Her face blanched, and a fine layer of sweat covered her forehead, but she followed her friends into the dressing room despite her discomfort.

"Lookit!" Eddy cried triumphantly as she held aloft a thick, black ribbon.

"Its black, Eddy. Black is ugly." Fran sniffed as she rummaged through a dresser drawer. Small, dried rose petals fell unnoticed at her feet, some of which were gently crushed with her soft ballet shoes.

"… s'not…." Eddy said, a little crestfallen. She tied the ribbon around her wrist in one deft movement, securing it tightly with her teeth. Fran rolled her eyes.

Danielle paced the room as if in a trace, completely unaware that her friends were even speaking. "I know this… I know this place… I know this room… why do I know this?" she stopped her frenetic circling of the room infront of a large, full-length mirror, and placed a hand to her forehead. Eddy and Fran had completely stopped exploring the room, and their fearful eyes were trained on their friend.

"Dany… what's the matter, love?" Eddy queried, taking a step closing to the panicking adolescent. "Tell us, we can help ye."

"You can't help… you cant possibly help me…." Danielle's eyes flew around the room "You can't help because I don't know what's the matter… I don't… I don't know…" shaking hands reached out behind her to brace her body against the wall. She wanted to be sick, to run away. Why was she in such a panic?

"Calm down Dany, it'll be okay." Fran said in a collected voice, hand outstretched to her friend. "Come on, come sit."

Danielle's breath was coming in gasps, and her searching hands connected not with the hard plaster of the wall, but the smooth surface of the floor-length mirror. She pressed her back against it, and it shifted slightly under her weight.

Eddy and Fran stopped moving to her, and their eyes became as wide as saucers.

"Dany…. The mirror…."

Danielle turned around slowly. Her grey eyes latched onto the black abyss that lay behind the mirror, a small but promising crack into another world. "I see it Fran… I see it." Trembling, girlish fingers grasped the exposed edge of the mirror, and tugging, opened it further.

Eddy stepped forward cautiously, none of her usual brashness evident in her careful movements. "… what should we do?" Her fingers joined Danielle's at the opened edge of the mirror, and their eyes locked with silent accord.

"Open it." Danielle said simply, and tugged once more at the heavy glass.

Fran stared at the two of them, wide eyed. "Have you both gone completely daft?" she said, her voice a quick whisper.

"No." Eddy answered simply, voice strained with the effort her arms were exerting to open the mirror, which seemed to be nearly stuck shut.

"Well I think you have." Fran said, eyes flickering towards the door. "What if someone sees us?"

"Be sensible Fran, no one knows we're even in this wing. No one ever goes into this wing anymore, remember? No one would ever notice us." Danielle's voice was calm and steady now, the previous panic had fled. "it wouldn't be for long… look, Eddy! _Stairs_!"

The girls had succeeded in cracking the mirror open wide enough for their small bodies to pass through, and Danielle wiggled through in a flash. Eddy followed closely, reaching into a pouch sewn inside her skirt for a match, and to secure the little mirror she had been grasping so tightly. "Cor, its dark in here." She said quietly, her small match the only bit of illumination they had. "Will you be joining us, dear Frances, or should we leave you to wander the corridors alone?"

France's groan was somewhat muffled by the mirror that stood in-between them. "I'm coming…" she wiggled through the gap with a little more difficultly than Eddy or Dany, her slightly stockier frame proving an impediment. She joined her two friends on the stone stairs, shivering miserably. "I hope you're happy. And that we don't fall down a pit and are trapped. You're right, you know, no one would come for us." She said glumly.

"Stop being such a wet blanket, Fran. And take Eddy's hand, or that may be a self-fulfilling prophecy." Danielle said, a hint of mirth colouring her voice. All traces of near-hysterical panic had left her voice and her demeanor, and she led her friends through the passage as if she had been traversing its dark depth her entire existence.

Eddy and Fran made eye contact for only an instant, both eyes reflecting their concern over their friend and the wonder they felt in these passages beneath the opera house. The walls were grimy and streaked with something that smelled decidedly unpleasant, and they could feel the dampness of the ground through their thin ballet shoes. Both girls surmised they would have to obtain a new pair after this adventure was over with – if the grime on the walls also coated the floor, they doubted they would ever be able to return their shoes to an acceptable state. To add to their discomfort, the girls could hear the scuttling of rats somewhere up ahead. Fran swallowed a cold lump of fear, and gripped Eddy's hand all the tighter. She hated rats.

Danielle gripped the little match bravely, casting a thin beam of light into the damp walkway ahead. It was almost out, but she knew she wouldn't have to call for Eddy to find another. Her footsteps echoed oddly in her own ears, and a watery, gurgling sound matched it. She knew where they were, and her anticipation grew with every step.

"Only a bit more girls – you wont believe what I'm going to show you." She said cheerfully. Fran and Eddy exchanged another look. A light had begun to grow in the dark stairway, and both of them had noticed it. The match had died a few moments ago; its little flicker was not missed. Something was ahead, something… big.

Danielle turned the last corner and stopped short, holding a hand out behind her to steady Eddy and Fran if they did not do the same. Soon, all three of them stood together on the stones, soft shoes wet and soiled.

"Dany…. Whot is this place?" Fran asked, the awe she felt echoed in her tone.

"Someone's home." she said simply. "Or rather, their drive-way."

Eddy said nothing, but simply gawked in a way only Eddy could. "Cor…"

The three girls stood on the edge of an underground lake, which stretched as far as they eye could see and then even further. It narrowed into a tunnel between the columns which supported their beloved opera house, and seemed to continue in even more volume beyond that. Its waters were dark and looked frighteningly cold, and seemed to be incredibly deep. This was not a place to swim, that much was certain. Melting candles lined the walls, giving the place an unlikely illumination. Eddy leaned down carefully, and brushed the water with her hand. It _was_ cold, frigid even.

"Do you know a way around this, Dany? I want to meet whoever it is who lives beneath the opera house. 'magine, Dany! How much fun 'ould that be?" her eyes sparkled with amusement.

Danielle thought for a moment. "I don't know that we _can_ get around it, Eds. I think the only way is to go across it.

"I am _not_ swimming in _that._" Fran said, backing away slightly.

"Did I even suggest that?" Eddy rolled her eyes. "Daft."

Fran stared meekly at her toes. "I _would_ like to see the house, though."

"Cheer up Fran, we'll figure out something." Danielle said, not unkindly. Fran was not nearly as adventurous as her or Eddy, and sometimes needed a little assurance and some kind words to continue when things became difficult. Despite her tendency to be a wet blanket, Danielle was still incredibly fond of the girl.

"Whot about a boat?" Eddy suggested "Surely the occupant of said house has _some_ way to cross this, and the only way I can imagine 'ould be a boat."

Danielle smacked a palm against her forehead, leaving a streak of black grime behind. "Of _course_! How could I forget the boat!" she scurried down a steep path neither Fran nor Eddy had previously noticed, though they quickly followed their friend, beseeching her to wait for them.

Danielle stood triumphantly at the water's edge, beside a large black boat. A pole was braced against the wall and held in place by a small silver hook, which Fran assumed was used to propel the vessel across the cold depths of the lake. "See? We _can _go across! And you can meet the angel." Danielle nodded gleefully, and began to size up a way to get into the rather unsteady contraption.

"_Who_?" Fran said, not comprehending the words that her friend had just spoken.

"She has gone _completely _mad." Eddy whispered to Fran, in a tone she hoped their dark-haired companion could not hear.

"The angel. And _no_, Eddy, I'm _not_ mad. Just you see, you'll believe me before this is through." Danielle was so assured. "And you mustn't be frightened of him, no matter what you think of him at first. Yes, I'm speaking to you, Frances. It would hurt him horribly. He really is frightfully nice. He gave me tea and played the piano for me. He's a wonderful piano player."

"Oh _really_." A strong, masculine voice made all three girls turn and stare in shock. The masked man stood behind them, his arms crossed and tall body leaning against a support pillar. Danielle couldn't tell if that posture meant he was amused or if it denoted his anger. The looks that graced her friend's faces assured her they had not taken her counsel to heart in the slightest. Fran had by that point turned completely white and looked a quite a fright, mouth completely agape. Even brave Eddy had lost some of her colour, although she stood straight and met the man's eyes with a bold sincerity that only Eddy could posses.

Danielle stepped away from the boat and moved to stand beside her two friends, taking Fran's hand in her own to assure the deathly pale girl that all was fine. She was surprised at the clamminess of the hand she held in her own, and just how tightly Fran could _really _grip. Attempting to ignore the fact that Fran was crushing her fingers, she dipped her head politely to the man that stood before them, and smiled kindly. "Hello, Angel."

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**your author says**_... okay, I PROMISE it picks up after this. Hopefully this was better than the last few chapters have been. I realize how frusterating it is when things dont move along quick enough haha. The next chapter will be rife with... something. Something action-y! I hope you shall be pleased and ignore the fact that I have, once again, given you a somewhat fluffish chapter. Next update will be soon, also, as this next chapter has been swimming in my head for ages and needs to be let out. It should hopefully shed some light on many things. And its either going to be oen really huge chapter, or two medium ones. I havent decided yet. I apologize for updates being somewhat arbitary lately, Ive just started a job and its been a little crazy. Bear with me :P reviews and crits always welcomed, thank you to my readers who review! 333 you are loved :P once again, I do not own POTO or any of its cannon charecters, depsite my wishes to the contrary._


	10. Chapter Ten: Startled

He stared at the three interlopers with stark curiosity. The little Christine, the little angel… she had returned, to find him! Him, the monster. Him, the circus freak... the unloved devil's child who hid his horrible face behind a shield of pure white, a colour unfitting for those such as him. Could he dare… could he dare to hope? In her forward manner he could tell that her fear of him outweighed her desire to return… to return to find _him_! Maybe there _was_ hope for a monster such as he, maybe there could, at last, be vindication!

That hope died inside of him when he caught sight of the blonde one's expression. She was, frankly, terrified. And rightly so. He was ugly, horrible, frightening. She had never seen such a creature as he in her entire lifetime, and he hoped for her sake she would never again. Her green eyes were dull with fear and panic, and her stocky legs wobbled slightly under their owner's suddenly dead weight. He could tell all the girl wanted was to faint dead away – that much was obvious from the grip she held on the little angel's hand and the shuddering of her chest as she breathed. His eyes studied her from head to toe. She was of heavier stock than her two companions – where the angel and her bold friend were willowy, she was more of an oak or maple. Her blonde hair was long, and was braided into one plait that hung down to her waist. She was the plainest of the three, that was for sure, but she possessed an innocence of spirit and caring eyes which made up for her lack of physical beauty. Of course she would be afraid of a monster – she was a sensible girl.

The other girl, however…. Her blue eyes were clear and aware – she studied and analyzed the world as it presented itself to her. She was muscular and wiry, probably due to years of dance, and her typical English features were offset by her short auburn hair – completely unfashionably short. It only reached a bit above her shoulders, and looked as if she hacked at it herself. She met his steely gaze with one of equal ferocity and brashness… despite everything, she harbored no fear for this mask, or the secrets it contained. This was little consolation, however – he doubted she would be afraid of anything. She could feel his eyes on her, he could tell. The look they reflected changed from one of ferocity to one of acquiescence, and a crystalline twinkle sparkled in her left eye. A grim smile blossomed inside of him – they were rather like two alpha wolves, sizing each other up before an attack, but instead of lunging, she had simply accepted him. This was a puzzlement, and Erik filled it away to ponder on at a later time.

"Hello." He answered the little Christine, arms still crossed. Her eyes reflected unreadable thoughts. Was she scared? Was she afraid, now, after risking so much to find him? Was she wondering if he was angry with her for invading his home, and bringing two strangers along?

There was a part of him, once, that would have murdered the three girls for something half as insolent as this. A spark of that personality still raged in a corner of his mind, railing against the prison it had been enclosed in, but he merely brushed it aside. There was no need for anger now. There was nothing inside him anymore. Not even anger could abide the hopeless void of his heart any longer.

"… how… how are you?" the angel-girl said awkwardly, looking at her toes. "… fancy a visit?"

"It appears as if the answer has already been chosen for me." Erik grumped, but there was an undercurrent of amusement in his tone. "What brings you to my solitary home, wet and apparently lost, much less with two ballet rats in tow?"

At his words, the blonde girl seemed to crumple into a puddle of sweat and fear and dirty ballet clothes. "Oh, ohohoh sir I'm so sorry we shouldn't be down here we didn't mean to interrupt anything we'll be leaving now pleasedon'teatus." This last sentence was spoken whilst nearly ripping the angel-girls arm from its socket.

"Don't be ridiculous Fran, he's _not_ going to eat us." The short-haired one groused, while rolling her blue eyes. "Honestly, you're such a wet blanket."

"Am not." Fran said crossly.

"Are too." Added the angel, reclaiming her arm quickly. "Fran, relax. Have I led you wrong before?"

"You haven't had the time!" the blonde girl, apparently called Fran, wailed disconsolately.

The short-haired one rolled her eyes again. "she's 'opeless." Much to the surprise of all present, she stepped forward, and stuck her hand out towards the masked man a decidedly unladylike fashion. "'ello. I'm Eddy. Real name's Edith, but no'un except for Madame Giry 'alls me that."

Erik eyed her outstretched hand for a moment, reluctant to put his own leather-clad one in its light grasp. _Be reasonable_ his mind growled, angry at his unwillingness. _She is a little girl. A brash one, maybe, but harmless still. She is no threat to you. _Edith's blue eyes pierced his own, seeing his reluctance to accept her handshake but leaving her hand there doggedly in spite of it all. Brash _and_ stubborn. Reaching one shaky hand towards her smaller peach-coloured one, he took her hand lightly.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edith. I am known as… as… Angel." Eddy shook his black-gloved hand vigorously, a fleeting grin of triumph on her expressive face.

Fran still cowered in a corner near the entrance back to the surface… to _her _dressing room. That perfect corner of his mind, normally so quiet, exploded with that thought, but the void quickly subdued it. She was still completely terrified, even though she had seen the entire exchange between Edith and himself. He couldn't possibly hurt her. The tendency for violence had completely gone, along with so much else of him. He held out a hand to her, shaking ever so slightly.

"Do not be afraid of me. I cannot hurt you. I am but an old, grey-haired man… there is nothing to fear from the likes of me."

Inside his head, his old voice chuckled darkly. There was _everything _to fear from him – or there once had been.

The fearful blonde girl, tears shining the corners of her eyes, didn't move a single muscle.

"Fran… its okay." The angel-girl said, reassuringly. Her eyes shone with a warm and endearing light, trying to coax the frightened girl to accept that the stranger would do her no evil. If only she knew the truth, what he was capable of… or had been capable of.

What had happened to the Phantom of the Opera?

------------------------------- -

Dany eyed Fran with a mixture of pity and irritation. "Come _on_, Fran. He's not going to bite you. _Eddy_ didn't even bother him for God's sake, and she wears on the best of tempers."

"I resent that…" Eddy grumbled, and tossed her head.

"Oh hush Eds." Fran shot back, trembling with fear. "Now is not the time for your shenani—"

"GIRLS!"

All three of the girls froze at the sound of their ballet mistress' voice. It was, quite possibly, the last noise they had expected to hear.

"Frances. Edith. _All of you_. Upstairs this instant." Madame Giry's eyes snapped with a wicked fire never seen previously, even during the worst of ballet practices. She grabbed Fran tightly, her fingers digging into her arm, showing no intent of relinquishing her grasp.

"Madame." The girls said meekly, and filed behind their ballet mistress as she unceremoniously dragged Fran up the stairs they had traveled down only moments before. Only Danielle noticed the absence of the masked man from the cavern they were leaving so quickly behind.

------------------------------- -

Meg was fuming. Absolutely fuming. How could the girls have found the mirror? It seemed unthinkable. How could they do something so foolish? She had seen them next to the gondola, the horrible black boat that almost bore her best friend away from her forever… but in the end, death had done that, hadn't it? Shaking that train of thought from her mind, she turned towards the girls.

"How… what in heaven's…. what were you doing down there." She said breathlessly, voice cold as ice and eyes even colder.

They were nearing the end of the passage; Danielle could see the light through the double-sided glass that served as a mirror. "We were exploring, Madame Giry." Her voice was as even as she could make it, under the circumstances. She was dreadfully scared, but determined to show no fear before the livid mistress.

"Exploring the sewers, hidden behind glass mirrors? What, Danielle, what ever possessed you to open a _mirror_, or, goodness, to even _be_ in the wing to begin with! It's been off-limits since the fire; you could have been _killed_ falling through a rotting patch of floor! Do you girls realize what could have happened to you?" some of the anger had left her tone, but she maintained her stranglehold on Fran's arm. It seemed to Danielle that there was more fear than anger behind her words now.

"I didn't _mean_ to discover the mirror, Madame… I leaned against it, and it shifted behind my weight. It was a simple matter to pry it open from there, and… well… being curious… but Madame, the odd thing was, I could have sworn Id been through their before, only going the opposite way, the way we just came… does that make sense, Madame? I mean, how silly, a memory of a place Id never seen before…" Danielle stopped, mid-babble, when she saw her teacher's face blanch.

"Go to your room, all of you. Don't let me see you for the rest of tonight. You may not dance with the girls tomorrow, is that clear? You will not leave your room for the duration of that time. _Am I making myself understandable_?"

The three girls shied away in fear, nodding frantically to the mistress before running at full-speed through the open door and down the dusty hallway.

Madame Giry, bent with the weight of her fears and the toll the years had taken on her body, sat on the chair that had once belonged to her dearest friend. Running a hand over her sweaty brow, she smoothed a few grey hairs back against her head.

"If that stagehand hadn't seen them go down this way… She knows the way to his home on the lake…. Somehow, she knows the way… perhaps she wasn't as asleep as Erik thought… forget knowing the way, she knows _him_… she's _seen_ him… and willingly, she seeks him out. It's beginning again. I won't let it consume her as it consumed her mother. The Angel of Music is _dead_."

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_**authors note:** I apologize once again for the wait. My job overshecduled me these last two weeks in a row... (I said a max of 15 hours/week, apparently 15 hours means 21 to them... LOL) and my granddad flew in from out of state, so Ive been doing pretty much everything BUT writing. but, this is done! and its up. which is exciting. I decided to split the chapter into two, because this was getting much too long. And the second half isnt completed yet, but since I got my schedule sorted out I should be able to write alot more. As always, reviews warm my very soul. and I dont own any of the cannon POTO charecters, even though I may wish to dearly._


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